Garnet Memories
by darkcyan
Summary: What if ... Setsuna wasn't who everyone (including herself) thought she was? What if, instead, she had been kidnapped from her own dimension to become Sailor Pluto? *ABANDONED*
1.

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This is what happens when you start asking yourself questions that are not worth answering. And then speculating about them. Such as, Why do Setsuna, Ayeka, and Sasami all have red eyes? Of course the worst part is when you start thinking things along the lines of Wouldn't it be cool if they were somehow related?   
  
That is the basis of this story. The Tenchi side is based loosely on Tenchi Universe, as it is the only one of the three with both Kiyone (my favorite character!) and animation that doesn't make me feel slightly sick to my stomach. I have no idea who owns Tenchi Universe, but it's not me. Believe me on this one.   
  
Oh, and I don't own Sailormoon either. I bet you're surprised, huh?   
  
  
A small girl with dark green hair and brilliant red eyes lay on the ground, regardless of how badly she was dirtying her clothes, and watched with fascination as a line of ants exited the small hill and came back, dragging all manner of things. She smiled as she watched two ants in particular, who dragged raisins taken from a box she had left lying open on the ground for just that purpose. She scooted over and leaned against a nearby tree, as she watched the two ants with raisins disappear into the hill. One . . . she counted. Two . . .   
  
In a very short period of time, a legion, a mob of ants came out of the hill and descended upon the hapless box of raisins. She grinned. And people say ants are stupid. Tilted her head. Although . . . if that box had been full of poisoned raisins, it would have been rather stupid to take all the raisins down into the hill. Shrugged. Not that it matters, since they weren't. She grinned up into the tree, which despite the complete lack of wind rustled its leaves, almost as if in reply.   
  
I love this. She sighed, closing her eyes as she leaned against the large tree. I can't think of any place I'd rather be.   
  
And that was when it happened. The hole in the ground opened up and she shrieked once as she fell, before the hole closed up again. A tall woman holding a staff stylized into the shape of a key stepped into the light. Her black hair glinted in the indifferent light and her aquamarine eyes were as hard as the stone they resembled. Finally, I have found my successor. She smiled. A small smile, a hard smile that did not come even close to reaching her eyes. A pity that I had to search so far afield. Such a waste of time.   
  
She stepped over the empty box of raisins, crushing a few of the ants unlucky enough to be in her way. As she raised her staff, she seemed to shimmer for a second or two. And then she was gone.   
  
The tree, whose branches had been whipping wildly when the stranger appeared, fell silent and still. And until the day it died, toppled by a particularly fierce storm, even in the strongest of winds, it never moved again.   
  
* * *  
  
The black-haired woman knelt beside the small green-haired child and nodded grimly. The girl would remember nothing of her life before.   
  
Soon, the small child stirred, opening bewildered garnet eyes. Where am I? And . . . who are you?  
  
She smiled. Why, dear, you're at home. Don't you remember? I'm your mother.   
  
The girl shook her head. I don't remember, not anything! She began to sound frightened. I don't remember who I am! She reached out to the older woman. Please, you say you're my mother. Please tell me who I am.   
  
Quiet, child. The black-haired woman said, with a small smile that did not reach her eyes. Remember, emotions serve no purpose except to disrupt your reasoning processes and give your enemies something to use against you. As for who you are . . . you are my daughter. Your name is Setsuna, and you are the heir to the throne of Pluto. As princess of Pluto, when the time comes you will become Sailor Pluto and the Guardian of the Time Gates, as I have been.   
  
The red-eyed girl blinked. Even though I no longer remember my life before this moment . . . I will become the best Sailor Pluto ever. I will make you proud, Mother. She straightened, and lost her smile. After all, her mother had told her that emotions served no purpose. So, from this day forth, she would have none. This she promised, to herself, in order that she become the best Sailor Pluto ever and make her mother proud of her.   
  
* * *  
  
As she stood by and watched the Silver Millennium fall, Setsuna no longer needed to steel herself against the weakness emotion would bring. Indeed, the Silver Millennium meant nothing to her, except . . . Why don't we stop them, Mother? We have the power to do so.   
  
What have I told you about emotion? The black-haired senshi's glance was sharp and unyielding.   
  
Setsuna shook her head. This is not an emotional objection, Mother. Simply that . . . this is such a waste. Inefficiency that we could easily prevent.   
  
Her mother shook her head. What will be, will be. Although we are given the power to see the future, we are sworn not to attempt to change it. To break that vow would bring ruin, not only upon us, but also upon all the people who depend on us to guard the Gates of Time.   
  
The green-haired girl nodded thoughtfully. It was not an ideal answer . . . but it would do, for now. I understand, Mother.   
  
The senshi of time turned and walked away, and Setsuna followed.   
  
* * *  
  
The green-haired senshi of time looked down on the world, as seasons changed and years flew by, as empires grew and fell, only to be replaced by others equally as petty. Finally, in a time of uneasy almost-peace between the many nations of the Earth, about twenty years before the youma attacks were projected to begin again, she nodded once and whispered the words, It is time.   
  
With great care, she seperated the part of her that was Setsuna from the part that was Sailor Pluto, Guardian of Time. Pluto sent Setsuna down to be reborn, and returned to watching over the Gates. When the time came, the two of them would be rejoined as one, and she would become a force in the world once again.   
  
But until then, she had other things to do. And so she turned her back upon herself, and returned to guarding the gates.   
  
* * *  
  
The young woman with long green hair knelt in the mostly empty room and began to unpack. Soon, another poked her head in and blinked. Oh, are you the new assistant?   
  
The young woman nodded. Meiou Setsuna. And bowed slightly.   
  
Oh, I'm Reika. Nishimura Reika. Hey, are you almost done? Want to come out to dinner with me tonight?   
  
Setsuna blinked. Don't touch. Don't feel emotions. They only weaken you. The thought came out of nowhere, but she shoved it aside. And smiled, shyly. No one had ever been this nice to her. Sure, I'd like that.  
  
While Reika quailed slightly at the sight of the eerie red eyes, she also saw immediately the barely hidden loneliness behind them. I'll see you later, then. And she left, with one last friendly wave.   
  
And Setsuna returned to her unpacking with a small smile on her face. A . . . friend, maybe. That would be nice. I've never had a friend, before.  
  
* * *  
  
She watched as the two older girls confronted the younger one, as the taller of the two ripped something off the other girl's chest. Locket holding the Ginzuishou. Gives Sailor Moon the ability to transform. Some part of her mind informed her, coldly. Other two, assumed to be Sailor Uranus and Sailor Neptune. Projected objective: taking the Ginzuishou in order for Sailor Moon to be unable to follow them and interfere. Pause.   
  
Another figure appeared, one that looked just like herself, The Outer Senshi are heading to their doom at the Marine Cathedral, and there is nothing you can do to stop them. Belatedly, she realized that the figure was not speaking to her, but to the other girl. To Tsukino Usagi How did she know that? She didn't understand, but the knowledge was there sometimes Sailor Moon. Who are you? Setsuna asked angrily, after Usagi had left.   
  
I am you. The other replied, and stepped into her. She gasped, as memories of her other self–the endless years guarding the gates–poured into her head. As the other's mind tried to overwhelm hers. Weakling. You have allowed your emotions to take control. Emotions are expendable, a weakness that your enemies can use against you.  
  
No, they're not! Setsuna pushed back the Pluto consciousness with all her might. Emotions are what make us human!   
  
Humanity is a weakness. Pluto-mind replied coldly. We are not human. We are Guardian. We have no need of humanity.  
  
I pity you. Setsuna returned sadly. Emotion is what gives life meaning. Emotion is what gives Sailor Moon her power. She refuses to give up because of her emotions. Because of her love for Tuxedo Kamen, and her friendship with her other senshi. Unknowingly, Setsuna was tapping into the store of knowledge Pluto had gathered in her time at the gates, just watching events pass by. Setsuna gave a greater push as they rippled from normal clothes to sailor fuku and back again. Emotion powers the Ginzuishou and emotion is what makes Sailor Moon the most powerful of the senshi, despite her numerous faults.   
  
Her eyes blazing red, a triumphant smile on her face, Setsuna gave one, final, push. And emotion is what will allow me to beat you! The Time Staff appeared and she switched to the sailor fuku as Setsuna-mind melded with Pluto-mind and came out with Setsuna in control. A bright glow appeared and the Time Staff changed, the top shifting to allow a brilliantly glowing garnet orb to affix itself on the top. The Garnet Orb. Pluto whispered defeatedly. The third holy talisman, proof of the purest of hearts.  
  
* * *  
  
About a year later, Setsuna sat holding baby Hotaru in her lap and grinned. What do you say about emotion now?   
  
You win already. Geez. Pluto-mind sulked. I admit it, emotion does have its good points. *Will* you let up on me already?  
  
Nope. I am going to hold this over your head and gloat at you until Hell freezes over.  
  
*Sigh* Setsuna, you are never going to grow up.  
  
Of course not. That wouldn't be any fun.  
  
Hotaru-chan's so cute. I must admit. Can I hold her for a while?   
  
Sure, why not. Setsuna let her part of their mind slip back, and let Pluto take control for a while. She was usually in control when they were Sailor Pluto, but Sailor Pluto had never had a chance to hold a baby. You are completely corrupted now, my friend.  
  
Yeah. Mother would be absolutely disgusted. Pluto's voice was sad. All I ever wanted was to make her proud of me.   
  
But pride is an emotion, too. And from what we remember, it seems she never felt any. Except, perhaps, mild annoyance when something didn't go the way she expected it to. Switch to a different topic. So we never remembered the first five years of our life? That sucks.  
  
Vague noise of agreement. I used to get flashes in my dreams–of a great tree that I loved. I had two sisters I think. Except, when I told my mother about them, she'd tell me that I'd never had any siblings, that they were mere dreams, nothing more. So I'd forget about them.   
  
I'm rather glad I never met your mother after all. Noise of disgust. She sounds horrible.  
  
Perhaps. I never thought about it. But she was our mother. I loved her, as much as I loved anything.   
  
Hn.  
  
And they sat in silence, each buried within her own thoughts, and rocked the tiny child.  
  
* * *  
  
We're going to die. Setsuna summarized succinctly as they watched their team members accept Galaxia's offer. Oh well. It's been nice knowing you, Pluto. Pause. Even if you were a serious pain at first.  
  
Thank you, my friend. Pluto replied sardonically. Believe me, I feel the same way about you, in spades. More sincerely, I'm going to miss you, you overly emotional, weak little human.   
  
Yeah. Me too, you robot-wannabe nearly emotionless control freak.  
  
Then, two pairs of cold eyes, mindless as well as emotionless. Golden light. As one, a cry of horror, Not Hotaru too! unvoiced but no less passionate even so. Then nothing.   
  
Except a small girl with green hair and red eyes, watching with delight as a line of ants carry away her raisins, under the shade of a huge, beloved tree.   
  
* * *  
  
A young woman–who looked to be in her early twenties or so–with dark green hair and red eyes lay on the ground. The object of her fascinated gaze, a line of ants. With an enigmatic smile, she tipped the small box of raisins over, spilling a few onto the ground nearby.   
  
As the first ant to find a raisin disappeared into the hill, its cargo in tow, a normally sardonic voice began whimsically, One . . . Two . . .  
  
After a very short period of time, a swarm of ants erupted from the hill, descending upon the hapless box of raisins. And some people say ants aren't intelligent.   
  
Well, if the raisins were poisoned, taking them all into the hill would be a singularly stupid thing to do. Pluto pointed out.   
  
But they're not. She frowned thoughtfully. We did this when we were younger, didn't we. Under the shade of a large tree.   
  
During the time we no longer remember? I honestly don't know . . . but I think so. It seems right, somehow. You saw that vision too. A statement, not a question.   
  
Right before we died? Yes. It was rather hard to miss, actually. I wonder what it means?   
  
Long pause, of the comfortable sort between people who know each other well. Then, mental impression of a shrug. Who knows.  
  
* * *  
  
Sailor Pluto leaned against the Time Gates, idly swinging the top of her staff back and forth. You know, if anyone ever saw you like this, they'd faint and cry sacrilege.   
  
At the same time? Besides, the only person who ever sees me like this is you. *And*, if it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be acting like this in the first place.   
  
And I can hardly go around gossiping about myself'. The people who know would look at me like I was crazy, and the people who don't would demand to know how I found out. Shared laughter.   
  
A small package dropped at their feet. What the–  
  
I didn't know they delivered mail to the Gates of Time. Grin. And it happened again.  
  
Our doubling up? Yeah, I noticed. It's happening a lot more often. They knelt down in front of the package. No return address, no address at all, just the name Sailor Pluto' inscribed in the center in impeccable handwriting.   
  
I'm worried. I mean, I'm happy that we're closer than ever, but I get the feeling . . . oh, it's probably nothing. Pause. When we return home, can you close your eyes' for a little bit? I have something silly I want to try, but I want you to get the full effects of it.  
  
Ah . . . sure. To close her eyes was a euphemism they used for the one not in control to . . . go elsewhere for a while, so that they are unaware of what the one in control of the body is doing. They didn't do it very often, but every once in a while they both needed some down time away from each other.   
  
After all, Setsuna was perhaps the only person with the ability to literally drive herself crazy. Let's look at the package when we're back down there, as well. I don't want to open it in front of the Time Gates if there is anything dangerous inside.   
  
Good point.  
  
* * *  
  
Setsuna wrote the short letter and placed it in their subspace pocket. If what she was afraid would happen, happened, it would be the first thing Pluto found. Then she got down to business on the other reason she had wanted to be alone. Carefully taking down her hair, she put it back up again in a different style. As she had told Pluto, it was silly. And she laughed, almost to the point of crying.   
  
Casting her thoughts deep into her own head and at the same time, somehow . . . away, she brought Pluto back. Neither of them really understood where they went when they their but they had quickly figured out how to reestablish contact. Okay, Pluto. You can look now.   
  
She could feel the other's presence rejoin her. Pluto, using their eyes, looked into the mirror, where a young woman with red eyes stood, her dark green hair up in twin odangos, the style of the royal family of the moon. Pause. Then, eruption. I love it! Pluto cackled through her laughter.   
  
Laughter which set Setsuna off again. For a while, it was all either of them could do to even breathe through their laughter. We look so incredibly silly! Ah, what a stress-reliever. I'm almost tempted to let the others see us like this, just so I could see the looks on their faces. Which hysterical thought set them both off again.   
  
Luckily, they were able to regain control, and redo their hair into its normal style, before the others arrived. So when Haruka and Michiru returned from picking Hotaru up from school, they found their housemate seated at the dining room table, calm and nearly expressionless as usual, a package in front of her.   
  
Who's the package for? Hotaru wanted to know immediately, walking up to look at it.   
  
Setsuna answered literally, then began to open it. Within the wrappings was a small box. And within the box, a note, which read Dear Setsuna/Pluto, Does this bring back any memories? If so, I'm glad to have been of help.' The green-haired woman grinned. I wonder what my future self wants to remind me of.   
  
How do you know it's from her . . . er . . . you? Haruka asked.   
  
Setsuna held up the note. I'm the only one who ever addresses letters to myself with Setsuna/Pluto' instead of just Setsuna' or perhaps Meiou Setsuna'. Shrug. Although I admit it is rather unusual that I sent myself a letter instead of talking with myself face to face.   
  
And underneath the note was a golden necklace, with a small, stylized gold tree. A puzzle. She mused. Most definitely a puzzle, and most interesting as well. She picked it up and almost reverently clasped it around her neck.  
  
So, does it bring back any memories? Michiru asked with a smile at her enigmatic friend.  
  
Setsuna stood. It is the memories that this does not bring back that interest me. She answered. And therein lies the puzzle. She left.   
  
* * *  
  
Pluto sat, leaning against the Gates of Time. A puzzle indeed.  
  
She did not acknowledge her alter ego's statement, as she continued looking at the small golden tree, except by continuing the thought. For to have known to send this, I will have had to have found it and, more importantly, regained the memories that this is supposed to remind me of. She leaned her head back until the crown of her head touched the cool metal of the Gates. Ach, paradoxes always make my head hurt.  
  
Oh, don't be so mean. They're fun. Now all we have to do is find the necklace and send it back. Of course, finding it will be the hard part,  
  
Since we have no idea where to look. They finished together.   
  
Have you ever looked through your mother's stuff? There might be some clue there.  
  
Good idea.  
  
* * *  
  
In a dark room on the planet Pluto, a young-looking woman with glowing red eyes systematically looked through everything in there. There wasn't much. The former owner of the room had lived a Spartan life–there was a bed, a small bathroom, and a small closet in which her few, mostly identical fukus resided. Finally, the young woman sighed in disgust.   
  
Have you checked under the bed? There might be some old skeletons' down there.  
  
Any skeletons she possessed should be in the closet, where they belong. Pluto grumbled. But no, I forgot about checking under the bed.   
  
And under the bed, indeed, turned out to be the correct place to search. They breathed, as they pulled out a small box. Within it was, as they had hoped but not expected, the golden necklace they wore around their neck. And something more–a small outfit, in blue and green and gold, about the size to be expected for a five-year-old. The amazing thing about it was, it was constructed of a fabric neither of them had ever seen. Not on modern-day Earth, and not during the Silver Millennium, and in fact it was far superior to those fabrics.   
  
Even though it must have been millennia old, the fabric was still as bright as the day it had been created. Not a trace of decay, or of the inevitable dimming of colors that comes with time.   
  
* * *  
  
Carefully, with a small smile on her face, Pluto placed the gold necklace in the small box. It was a common box, one that she had bought from a random jewelry store, the name of which she didn't bother to remember. On top of the necklace went the short note. Around the box went the wrapping of a package, and on that package she wrote, in an impeccable hand, the words Sailor Pluto. She should have recognized the calligraphy before–after all, she saw it every time she wrote.   
  
Focusing carefully upon the Gate, she dropped the package in front of her slightly younger self, making sure she waited until after they stopped shaking with silent laughter. Good job. Setsuna grinned in Pluto's head, and she couldn't help but smile in response.   
  
A shadow detached itself silently from the mists surrounding the Time Gates, one that Pluto did not see, but sensed through her long familiarity with the surrounding area. She shifted slightly, bringing her staff up into a steady position from which she could either guard or strike.   
  
A low, humourless laugh echoed through the mists as the intruder strode forward. At last, I thought I had found a successor worthy of the position. But I was wrong again, you succumbed to the negligent temptation of emotion, like the weak human I taught you to suppress within yourself. A contemptuous glance took in the necklace with the gold tree, the only link Pluto now had to a past she could no longer remember.  
  
As the intruder came into the indifferent light, Pluto understood something that it had never even occured to her to question before. This woman with silky black hair and hard aquamarine eyes did not look even slightly similar to her. You're not my mother. A statement, and not one of anguished denial of one who had betrayed her, but a calm statement of an obvious fact.   
  
Of course not. Do you think I would dirty myself in that way? The reply called her again a fool, for even considering such a thing. With something approaching pity in the back of her eyes, Pluto/Setsuna remembered a quiet afternoon with a tiny black-haired child in her lap, and the sense of peace it left with her even now.  
  
What are you here for, then? They kept tight control of her body, resisting the impulse to bring up a hand and grab the gold tree, like a lifeline in this suddenly variable world.   
  
I have come to take back what is mine. You have proven yourself to be of no further use to me, and so I must find myself another successor.  
  
We're going to die. And Pluto/Setsuna knew this cold woman would have no qualms about killing them. I'm sorry. If I had given in and allowed you to take over, you would still be the emotionless drone she wants. It's my fault for corrupting you. Pluto could feel Setsuna on the edge of tears, and she too felt the need to cry, but held it back. They were closer together now than ever before, she could feel it. Every instinct, every thought, the same.  
  
Don't be sorry. If you had not corrupted me, I would never have held Hotaru, or been friends with Haruka and Michiru, or been able to laugh and cry. If you had not corrupted me . . . I might be able to look forward to a longer life, but it wouldn't be a life. It would just be colorless, emotionless, existence. Because emotion is what brings life color.   
  
Pluto looked at the woman that she had once called mother. That woman was more experienced, but she had no doubt that she was stronger. After all, she had emotion on her side. Love, friendship, all those bonds strengthened her the way they had Serenity-hime in her final fight against Beryl. She had the Garnet Orb, as well, and all the power that it possessed, because of Setsuna's pure heart that was also her own.   
  
The woman looked back, cold eyes emotionless. I will not fight you, little girl. You are millennia to young to even be a challenge to me. She flicked her hand and Pluto/Setsuna felt them/herself thrown backwards violently, into and through the Gates of Time.   
  
* * *  
  
In a small park near the center of the Juuban district, a green-haired woman with garnet eyes wearing a black and burgungy sailor fuku landed with a crash. She picked herself up, wincing as her left wrist began hurting and bent in a direction it definitely should *not* have been bending–probably broken–and looked around.   
  
Belatedly noticing the attire she wore, she detransformed into a casual garnet red T-shirt and black jeans, both spotted with the white paint she had been helping to paint their house with earlier that afternoon. Expecting to be relegated to the back of her mind, she smiled and waited.   
  
Slowly the smile faded. Setsuna? This is no time to be closing your eyes'. It's your turn. A more significant wait, in which she actively searched. Setsuna? Setsuna?! Still no answer.   
  
She screamed, a sound full of anguish that echoed through the park, empty in the late afternoon. She collapsed to her knees, sobbing. Setsuna . . .  
  
* * *  
  
In the misty area surrounding the Gates of Time, a woman with black hair and cold aquamarine eyes shifted, to become a younger woman with a softer face–one made for smiles, not frowns–with dark green hair and garnet eyes. She frowned as she remember what her erstwhile successor had been doing, living like that with other people, experiencing emotions, and other such highly disgusting activities. Some changes must be made. She commented.   
  
  
End Notes: I'm sorry for making Setsuna's evil! *sniff* I didn't want too, but I had to make her (Setsuna, that is) Sailor Pluto somehow! So, let me know what you think about my latest little . . . idea. Any comments and suggestions are welcome . . . hey, I might even use them!


	2. 

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So, you've made it to this chapter . . . maybe that means you like it! Or maybe it just means you want to know just exactly what tortures I've inflicted on poor Pluto/Setsuna, so that you can take them all out on my poor little self . . .   
  
Anyway! Tenchi Universe is *not* mine. (Aww.) Tenchi character shows up for the first time in this chapter! (Yay!) Sailormoon is not mine either. (Aww.) Setsuna with blue-green eyes is, however, purely my own invention . . . I had to have *some* way to tell them apart! (Yay! Uh . . . oops . . . oh well, whatever.)  
  
  
A small young woman with short blue hair–shoulder length or so, she had meant to cut it, but had never gotten around to doing so–had been walking by the park when the cry of anguish rang through it. Why was she walking by the park, some might ask? Most would assume she was out for an early evening stroll. Clearing her head before beginning on that night's homework.   
  
Those people didn't know this particular young woman, to think she had not yet finished her homework. She was actually, most likely, at least three days ahead as far as homework was concerned. But she was not just intelligent, that could be told by the casual way she walked at a speed that would have most people breathing hard within a relatively short period of time. That much she had learned from her other life. A life she spent fighting as part of a team, against monsters, demons, sent by evil forces bent on conquering or utterly destroying the planet. Or perhaps the solar system or the rest of the galaxy as well.   
  
So why was she out walking? She was patrolling, something they–she and the rest of her team–did on a regular basis, whenever they had spare time and nothing better to do. Sure, when they patrolled in groups, they usually ended up the malls, but . . . allowances should be made. Superheroines they might be, but they were also teenage girls in addition to that.  
  
The cry did not sound to her like one provoked by the attack of a youma, so she did not call the others, not yet. If, indeed, there was a youma, she could call quickly enough. Still, she hurried towards the sound, because it sounded to her like someone in need of help. And, sweet person she was, when there was help she was capable of giving, she would give it.   
  
* * *  
  
Whatever she expected, though, she did not expect what she found. A distraught person, yes, but also one close to her. A friend, and a part of the team. She stopped, in shock at the sight. Setsuna was one of the most contained, unflappable people she knew. Anything that hit her this hard . . . well, Ami wouldn't have been surprised if someone had announced that the universe was about to implode any second now. She might–make that probably–would even have believed them.   
  
Not knowing what to do, she hugged the older girl, feeling woefully inadequate as Setsuna latched onto her and continued to cry herself out. All she could do was hope the tears would end soon–hopefully before the cataclysm that would be coming imminently arrived.   
  
Finally, the other young woman's sobs slowed and ceased, into the slow rhythm of exhausted sleep. Ami shook her head, a small smile on her face. It couldn't be that bad, if Setsuna could go on to sleep. Now all she had to do was get the other girl home soon–although Haruka and Michiru wouldn't worry too much, since Setsuna seemed to enjoy disappearing, and reappearing unexpectedly.   
  
Mercury Crystal Power, Make Up! Ami knew she wasn't strong enough to carry Setsuna for very long herself, but Mercury could do it. And she could roof-hop, in addition. That was a definite plus.   
  
As she picked up her green-haired friend, she noticed a beautiful golden necklace with a stylized tree on it, one she had never seen before.   
  
Another question to wonder about, until the other girl woke up.   
  
* * *  
  
Mercury paused as she came up to the house the four Outer senshi shared, and detransformed. Awkwardly carrying her burden–which suddenly seemed a great deal heavier–she reached up and rang the doorbell. Absently, she noticed what she hadn't before–that Setsuna's left wrist was bent at an unnatural angle, the way only broken bones did. That, and she had a large bruise across her midriff, although it looked like no ribs were cracked.   
  
Ami shuddered. She had no interest in finding out what would be able to do *that* to the seemingly invincible senshi of time. The door opened–Michiru. The teal-haired girl looked down at Setsuna, eyes slightly widened. That's a new one. Come on in, Ami.  
  
With Michiru leading the way, Ami brought Setsuna into her room and laid her down gently on the bed.   
  
What happened? Michiru asked with concern, her sharp eyes having also marked the broken wrist and large bruise across the other's lower torso.  
  
I don't know. Ami answered honestly, as they closed the door quietly. I was patrolling the park when I heard an anguished scream. When I got there . . . she was kneeling, crying her eyes out, keening, and generally being the most emotional I have ever seen her. She was beating her hands against the ground too– Wince. –in spite of one of them being broken.   
  
Michiru summed up the projected situation in precisely the words Ami would have used. Bad. Very bad. Slight smile. Or, as Haruka would say, We are in deep shit.'   
  
Ami grinned in spite of herself. That did sound like the way the impulsive blonde racer would summarize their situation.   
  
Really? And why would I say that? The blonde in question asked from the doorway, entering the room. Hello Ami, what brings you here?   
  
I brought Setsuna home. I found her crying in the park. With a broken wrist and a huge bruise visible.  
  
I think you hit it on the nose, Michiru. We are in *very* deep shit. Haruka replied. As if those phages are not enough trouble already!   
  
In addition to whoever is directing them. A new voice added softly. So, what's this new trouble you three are worrying about?   
  
The three turned.   
  
A hint of amusement was added to the green-haired senshi's calm facade. Do I have mud on my face?   
  
Ami stood, looking intently at her. Wow. I didn't know that even *you* could heal a broken wrist that quickly! Especially since I haven't set it yet.   
  
Raised eyebrow. What broken wrist? I wasn't aware I had one.   
  
But if you're you . . . Michiru started.   
  
Then who did I bring here? Ami ended.   
  
Both eyebrows raised. An imposter? Interesting. Why don't we go see this . . . me . . . now. A suggestion, it carried the tone of a command.   
  
* * *  
  
The four gathered around Setsuna's bed, around the person within it who looked exactly like Setsuna.   
  
Ami looked from one to the other. The resemblance is uncanny. Could she be the Sailor Pluto from an alternate dimension? If so, they might not have to worry about just the universe collapsing . . . but perhaps something as horrific as the entire multiverse. Assuming, that is, that her theory on alternate dimensions was a true one. It felt right . . . but there wasn't any solid proof.   
  
Setsuna sighed lightly. That would be my guess too . . . except that there is no excessive amount of temporal anomalies surrounding her . . . this is her home dimension as surely as it is mine, or any of ours. She cocked her head to one side, slightly. You might want to set that wrist before she wakes up. As you observed, even *I* can't heal something like a broken bone that quickly. Her eyes caught, as Ami's had earlier, on the thin golden necklace. What on earth is that?   
  
Shrug. I was hoping you . . . well, actually she now, it turns out, could explain it. It doesn't look like any of the jewelry I've ever seen you wear.   
  
It's not. Setsuna's voice was firm. I've never seen anything like it before in my life.   
  
It was a gift from myself. A new voice said softly, still weighed down with incredible sorrow. In hopes that it would bring back memories of a time that I can no longer remember. Her eyes still closed, the stranger brought her free hand up to wrap itself around the necklace, firmly but gently. I hoped I'd be able to regain some memories because of it . . . it's the only clue I have anymore. Her head turned slightly, and she opened her eyes. Thank you for setting my wrist, Ami.  
  
Who are you? Setsuna asked, blue-green eyes intent on the answer.   
  
For so long, for forever it seemed, she had thought of herself as just that. Human interactions were left to Setsuna, while she stayed in the background and watched. Except . . . Setsuna was gone now. She bowed her head, desperately fighting against even more tears, tears that slid down her face in spite of herself. Setsuna would be laughing at me now. She always claimed that I'm still not emotional enough . . . but she'd be laughing now. Setsuna . . .  
  
The other four watched as Pluto curled in on herself. It's not fair. A soft voice, a broken voice. She should have been the one to remain. She understands how to interact with people. I can't, I've never had enough practice . . . I always let her deal with people . . . why couldn't I be the one to dissipate? Or whatever it was she did.   
  
Who's Ami asked softly.   
  
Setsuna. My other half. Pluto straightened somewhat. The first time I saw her, I tried to obliterate her. I saw her as a necessary cover, giving me a human identity in case I ever needed one. But she fought back . . . she probably could have obliterated *me* but she didn't. She wouldn't have wanted to. Reminiscent smile. Then, a turn to Setsuna, with a widening of the eyes. What am I saying? We never told any of this, even to our own fellow senshi. You had no trouble reintegrating, I bet. Show me the Time Staff. An order, snapped out with a slightly wild look beginning to creep into her eyes.   
  
  
  
If I am to trust you, I must know, and this is the best way for me to find out. Pluto's face, originally so open, had closed off. Not the habitual mask of indifference through which some emotion still slipped that their Setsuna used, but a true closing, a block between herself and everything else.   
  
Setsuna brought out her staff with a flash of light, and Pluto stood and walked closer. Don't worry, I don't need to touch it. She reassured her almost-double. She brought her free hand close to the tip of the staff, on which the Garnet Orb rested, and it began to emit a dim reddish light. Hand falling back to her side, she nodded. It's the real thing.  
  
Collapsing back to a seated position on the bed, she smiled wearily. I had to be absolutely sure. You have the bitch's eyes–but only in color. In substance, your eyes are more like . . . Setsuna's were.  
  
Eyebrows raised around the circle. Sure, with her slightly disconcerting red eyes open, Pluto didn't look quite as much like Setsuna . . . but the resemblance was enough that they were all rather surprised to hear cursing coming from her mouth. The bitch? Large question mark.   
  
My so-called mother. A very strong emotion had taken over Pluto's face. Hatred. The one who taught me that any emotion was a weakness to be eliminated, that all traces of humanity within myself should be purged. Bitter laugh. I remember now . . . I objected to allowing the fall of the Silver Millennium purely because it seemed so inefficient. Sigh, as a look of reminiscence entered her eyes. It took my better half to finally beat into me the idea that emotions are worth experiencing. Her, and you two, her eyes sought out Haruka and Michiru, and most of all Hotaru. I think the first time we thought exactly the same thought, at exactly the same time, was when she was killed.  
  
Instant exclamation from all four. Hotaru dies?!   
  
Oops.  
  
* * *  
  
I don't understand why you haven't tried to neutralize me somehow. At least by sending me back to my home dimension. I must represent an incredibly large temporal anomaly. Pluto frowned at Setsuna, trying to figure out this newest puzzle.   
  
Setsuna worried at her lower lip. But you don't. As far as I can tell, this is as much your home dimension, and your home time within this dimension, as it is mine. Or any of my fellow senshi. Sigh. And that makes it a great deal harder. You remember, I assume, how much power it took to craft the time key that allowed Chibiusa to come back to the past.   
  
Silent nod. And that was just sending someone out of their proper *time*! Dimensional transportation is *exponentially* harder. Well, not if you're sending someone back where they belong . . . but as far as I can tell, as far as the Time Stream cares, you belong here. Even if I had the *power* to send you back, I wouldn't have the necessary skill. Perhaps my self during the Crystal Millennium, but certainly not now.  
  
It is true, I have the skill. A third soft voice, a sudden third green-haired presence in the room. A second presence with blue-green eyes. But I still lack the necessary power. Even were I to link with you, her eyes sought out Pluto, our combined power would not be enough. I'm sorry. She turned and left, as quietly and unobrusively as she had come.   
  
I'm sorry too, Pluto.   
  
It's not your fault. Sigh. If anyone, the fault rests with the bitch. Stealing me away from my home dimension, not to mention whatever parents and siblings I might have had. Growl. I *will* find my way back somehow. If only for the pleasure of kicking her into next Tuesday.  
  
* * *  
  
Hey Pluto–you know, you really need a better name than that. Whatever Haruka had first meant to say, she became sidetracked as quickly as that.   
  
She's right. Michiru, although fully dressed, was still towelling her hair dry from a recent shower. So . . . you ever had another name? Other than Setsuna, that is?   
  
A touch to the tree, and thoughtful silence. Call me Midori. It's as good a name as any, and a great deal better than most.  
  
Okay. So anyway . . . Midori. Feel like going out tonight? Star Healer and I are going out patrolling, but you could come with us if you wanted. Haruka offered.   
  
Pluto . . . Midori . . . accepted quietly, although the implications floored her. *She* knew the Starlights were good, that the Outers' insistance that anything coming from outside of the solar system–including her own, although she hated to admit it–was suspicious had been proven wrong. But they didn't even know that Galaxia existed yet, so how could they know?  
  
Just then a knock came at the door, and Haruka smiled. That must be him now. She walked over to the door and opened it. Come on in, Yaten.   
  
And as the smirking silver-haired young man/super heroine entered the house, Midori shook her head the slightest bit. This, if not anything else–including her almost-double's existence–proved beyond any doubt that she was in an entirely different dimension.   
  
'Lo, Setsuna. Not too often that we see the inscrutable senshi of time just hanging out here. You're usually too busy, with one thing or another. So, what horrific calamity is happening now? Casual address, joking around, meant s/he was on friendly terms with Setsuna . . . and so almost certainly with all the rest of their team.  
  
Well, Setsuna–her other half–had been able to play this game along with the best of them. And she had always been waiting in the back of Setsuna's mind, an unseen watcher of all that went on.  
  
Turn around first. Let the boy get the full impact of the red eyes and the broken wrist. Prop chin in right hand and stare for all she was worth. Nice to see you too, Yaten. Oh by the way, I'm Setsuna's analog from an alternate dimension. You can call me Midori, to keep the confusion levels down.   
  
Facefault. You call that keeping the confusion levels down?   
  
Shrug. Sure, why not? If it has blue-green eyes, you call it Setsuna. If it has red eyes, you call it Midori. Couldn't be simpler. I'll be coming along with the two of you tonight. Haruka's idea.   
  
Yaten looked from Midori to Haruka and back again. Shrug. If you say so. Well, shall we go?   
  
* * *  
  
Evidently, you're not nearly as xenophobic in this dimension as we were. Midori remarked, in answer to a question about the differences between her life and this one. We were always highly suspicious of you Starlights, She nodded to Yaten cordially, Because you came from outside the solar system, through the boundary we were supposed to be guarding, and we couldn't be sure whether you were friend or foe.   
  
Haruka and Yaten both shook their heads sadly. What a difference. Even during the Silver Millennium, we had cordial relations with quite a few other planets, galactic empires, and other sorts of things. Of course, we lost contact with Kinmoku around the fall of the Silver Millennium, but that's understandable. We lost contact with the rest of our allies as well. Haruka commented.   
  
Yaten looked up. I think . . . I heard something about . . . Jurai I think it was. He sounded doubtful. That they had re-established contact with Earth. But I don't think we ever figured out where their base of operations was.   
  
A brilliant flash of golden light caused all three to turn their heads. Sailor Iron Mouse. Yaten said.   
  
A phage. Haruka stated in the same moment. Both would be right, of course.   
  
Galaxia. Midori thought, but did not say. If they did not know yet, they would know soon enough. And she would not be the one to tell them.   
  
Healer Star Power, Make Up!  
  
Uranus Crystal Power, Make Up!  
  
Pluto Crystal Power, Make Up! They shouted, they transformed, as they ran towards where they had seen the light coming from. Or rather, two of them transformed. Soon, Sailor Star Healer and Super Sailor Uranus ran alongside Midori, but she remained the same. So. Only one Sailor Pluto can exist at a time. I suppose I'm not really surprised. But she was disappointed, although she tried to suppress that feeling. The feeling of uselessness.   
  
A figure rose from its kneeling position as its star seed shriveled into blackness–as all star seeds, except those of senshi, did. Sailor Laser! It proclaimed loudly. It resembled a fighter robot straight out of a sci-fi movie–humanoid but made out of plates of metal, with a large gun in its hands. Seeing the phage, Midori remembered . . . and she realized there *was* something she could do, after all. Go on ahead! I'll call the others! I hope my communicator still works, at least.   
  
Uranus nodded. World Shaking!   
  
Star Sensitive Inferno!  
  
*click* We've got a phage here! We need Eternal Sailor Moon.   
  
Who are you? And how did you get a communicator? Usagi's face popped up on the screen.   
  
No time. Uranus and Star Healer are going to need your help, soon. I'll explain la– a stray laser beam, while miraculously not doing any more than singeing the tips of Midori's fingers, completely vaporized the top half of the communicator. She sighed, dropping the now-useless other half. Oh well.  
  
Midori turned and examined the metal monstrosity. Finally, she nodded. I may not be able to transform anymore, but I can still do something. She looked down at her bound left hand, unwrapping the bandages carefully and dropping them to the ground. Experimentally, she flexed her wrist, making her hand into a fist and releasing. She nodded. It's good as new. Well, almost. At least my swift healing abilities have not abandoned me yet.   
  
With a small smile on her face and a twinkle in her eyes, Midori took a deep breath. Sailor Laser, PREPARE TO DIE! And threw herself at the robotic phage. I've always wanted to say that . . . and it's at least as fun as I expected it to be. She flipped over the first laser it sent her way and just dodged the second, coming close to deliver a kick to its face. At least she could keep it occupied until Eternal Sailor Moon got there.   
  
But then, as her foot came into range, the phage's hand came up–impossibly fast–and grabbed her foot, throwing her around into a nearby tree. She came up spitting leaves. That had hurt! Now, the phage was really going to pay . . .  
  
And again, the phage intercepted her. The pattern continued, Uranus and Star Healer helpless to do anything but watch, as Midori threw herself at the phage, was caught, got thrown into a tree or a wall or the ground, only to get up again. She's snapped. The pressure just got to her. Uranus sadly summarized.   
  
Star Healer was watching with astonishment. I thought you said her wrist was broken. Which one?   
  
Baka, it should be obvious. The one with the . . . bandages?! Uranus, too, now saw what Star Healer had seen. That's insane! No one can heal that fast!  
  
*Wham!* Midori slammed into a nearby tree. She picked herself up with a grimace of pain and a grin of enjoyment. I could heal even faster when I had Setsuna's help. But it's just me now, so it takes me a little longer. She brushed hair out of her garnet eyes, glowing with the light of battle. I'd suggest you join me, but there wouldn't be much point in summoning Eternal Sailor Moon if the phage dies before she gets here. I'm only human, so I won't cause nearly enough damage. She suppressed a wince, hoping the other two hadn't seen. I hope she gets here soon, though. Much more tree-slamming, and I might end my life as a paraplegic. And that is *not* on my list of life goals.   
  
With a running jump, she flipped over the head of the phage, kicking it in the back of the neck on her way down. *Wham!* And became intimately acquainted with yet another tree. I don't want to worry them . . . but I probably won't last much longer like this. With a sad smile, she used the trunk of the tree to drag herself upright. Ah, well. There are worse ways of dying than going out fighting. My only regret is that I didn't get a chance to kick my so-called mother's rear end into a black hole somewhere.   
  
Unable to summon up the effort anymore, she slid back down into a sitting position. At least ten of my vertebrae are knocked out of line . . . nothing that has cut the spinal column yet, so I guess I'm lucky. That's two . . . three broken ribs. I think I broke my wrist again, too–I should have given it just a little bit longer to heal before abusing it again like this. And maybe a leg. She looked up over towards the phage, who was preparing one last laser blast. Without advanced medical care, I don't think even I can heal myself fast enough. Well enough. It's been fun, though, however short a time it's lasted.  
  
She began to close her eyes, when a red glow caught her attention. With a truly happy smile, she reached out a shaking hand to the Garnet Orb, which had come into being in front of her. To guard her. There is nothing you can do now. She addressed the talisman. Not even you.   
  
Then the blast. The blast which, aimed directly at Midori, struck her Garnet Orb instead. The Garnet Orb has never been any stranger to power, but this was not a type of power it was equipped to handle. So it transmuted the power to a form it could handle–temporal energy–with the aid of . . . something . . . that it drew from the being of the girl it guarded, and was a part of.   
  
The area around the beaten girl and her talisman rippled, as the excess of temporal energy ripped a hole in space/time. And throught the hole the girl fell, a wry smile on her face.   
  
Moments later, Eternal Sailor Moon arrived with backup. The phage was cleansed, as had been its predecessors, and returned to human form–a theoretical research scientist. Who was the girl who called me, and how did she get ahold of a communicator? She demanded.   
  
She called herself Midori. Uranus replied. She was Sailor Pluto in all but name and eye color.   
  
She kept the phage busy until you arrived. Star Healer's eyes still rested on the place where she had last seen the mysterious girl. And then, she finally got hit by one of the laser blasts . . . and disappeared.   
  
* * *  
  
Washu sat in her lab. The cushion upon which she sat floated a couple feet in the air, but even had anyone else been in the lab, they would not have remarked on this occurrence. They were used to it. They would, however, have left once they saw the puzzled frown gracing the pink-haired scientist's face. A frowning Washu meant a great deal of trouble for someone–so it was the better part of valor to leave before she noticed their presence.   
  
She watched a screen. But this was not just *any* screen, oh no! This was her specially adapted screen to detect Juraian power. All of the Juraian royal family had so much power that even when they weren't using it consciously, the power still . . . leaked, for lack of a better word. So, there was Sasami in the kitchen . . . Ayeka zipping around the house in chase of either Ryoko or Tenchi . . . Yosho up at the shrine . . . Tenchi up at the shrine too, so Ayeka must be chasing Ryoko.   
  
But . . . there had been a blip. Over in Tokyo, she had seen a blip! Her pride was highly offended, because in all her twenty-thousand years of life, she had never seen someone who Jurai power. Either they had it, and it leaked in traceable amounts, or they didn't. It was as simple as that. No exceptions.   
  
She glared angrily at the screen–an expression that turned out to only look disgustingly cute because of her small stature–and hopped down from her cushion in a huff. Exiting back into the real world through her dimensional doorway, she stalked away.   
  
And this was why she was down by the lake when space/time ripped again, and deposited its burden in the shallows of the lake, practically at her feet. Washu was surprised, but only moderately. Not much can astonish you, once you've lived a couple thousand years or so. Especially when you live with the Masakis–there always seemed to be something strange going on, even if it was nothing more than the hourly fight between a princess, heir to the throne of an intergalactic empire, and a space pirate.   
  
She did rather wonder what had beat the poor girl up so badly. She seemed to be only barely clinging to life, although her calm face did not bear witness to this struggle. Washu shrugged as she picked up the girl and teleported them both to her lab. First, she'd patch the girl up. Then, she'd see what sort of interesting story the girl had to tell.   
  
And to think she had been beginning to get bored.   
  
  
End Notes: Wahoo! Finished this part at last! Next time, Midori meets the Tenchi crew! Small aside–she didn't bounce dimensions again. Or times, or anything else like that. Just went through a really wasteful method of teleportation.   
  
Oh, just in case anyone's wondering–Midori means green, or somehing like that. And why couldn't she transform? Let's just say . . . she can't draw her power from Pluto anymore. And leave it at that for now. 


	3. 

red3

Just out of curiousity, seeing as I haven't seen Tenchi in *ages*, does anyone know what color eyes Yosho/Katsuhito has? If you do, *please* review and tell me, or email me at dragonmarquise@yahoo.com. You'd think he has red eyes like the rest of his family, but I seem to remember them being either black or brown instead. *Sigh!* It's so frustrating when you start realizing the tiny details you really ought to know, but don't.   
  
Anyway, Setsuna/Pluto/Midori doesn't belong to me, as she is the property of Naoko Takeuchi, along with the rest of the Sailormoon characters that don't show up in this chapter. Setsuna with the blue-green eyes is my original little tweak, however, as is Setsuna/Pluto/Midori's nastiness of a so-called mother. Oh, and I don't own Tenchi Universe and the characters thereof, either.   
  
On with the story . . .  
  
  
Washu made sure to post the Do Not Disturb sign on the doorway to her lab. Not that she thought it would help . . . but anything was possible. The other morons in the house might actually pay attention for once. Except she wasn't quite sure if Mihoshi actually knew how to read . . .  
  
And just who are you, I wonder? She asked the unconscious figure as she hooked the girl up to a cellular regenerator that she kept handy in her lab–just in case something serious ever did happen. What happened to you? She examined the figure closely. The burgundy T-shirt and black jeans had come off–and both, because of their color, had managed to disguise exactly how much blood their owner had spilled, and from how many places. As well, the spinal cord was almost completely severed . . . this girl had dislocated vertebrae, gotten up, and done the same thing all over again many times, it looked like, each time shoving the displaced vertebrae further and further toward–and eventually through–her spinal cord. She must have an awfully high pain threshold, to be able to withstand all that.   
  
Washu shook her head with amazement. That this unknown person had taken that much damage and survived . . . it was lucky she had turned up here–not even the most modern of Terran doctors would be able to fix this much damage and have a significant chance of the patient living through the process. Strange coincidence, really. She turned her attention back to her Jurai power-meter, whistling cheerfully, as she waited for the girl to fully heal and wake up.   
  
* * *  
  
Washu looked at the regeneration chambers with a great deal of amazement. *No one* she knew of could be almost completely healed in such a short period of time as this girl had taken. The mystery surrounding her just continued to grow deeper and deeper.   
  
Finally the regeneration chamber opened, and the green-haired girl stumbled out. My head . . . She muttered, then looked up. Oh, who are you?   
  
Stunned for a brief moment by the girl's unexpectedly red eyes, Washu blinked before replying, I am Washu, the greatest scientific genius in the universe! Thunder crashes in the background. But you can call me Washu-chan. Kawaii smile. And who are you, young lady?   
  
She drew herself up. I am . . . Pause. How strange. I can't remember.   
  
Facefault. Let me get this straight. You are seriously mutilated by something, mutilations that include the severing of your spinal cord among other nasty injuries, and you CAN'T REMEMBER HOW IT HAPPENED?!  
  
The green-haired girl wrinkled her forehead in thought. No, I can't say I do. Oh well, I'm fine now, right? I can walk, after all, so I must not be too badly damaged. Hair swished into her face and she grabbed a fistful. Ooh . . . nice color.  
  
Washu wiped her face. This was shaping itself into a *very* long day. Okay, I can see you developing mental blocks as to whatever happened to you–since it must have been rather awful–but you should at least remember your own name!   
  
Shrug. Sorry, I don't. Why don't we call me . . . um . . . I know! My hair is such a lovely shade of green, so you can call me Midori!   
  
Facefault again. Washu pried herself painfully up off the ground. Okay then, Midori. I suppose, since you probably have no idea where you come from either . . . Nod. . . . that you'll be staying here for a while. I may even let you stay here with me, in my lab, since it is rather hectic out there. Now the first rule is, DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING! Unless you have my permission, of course. Kawaii smile.   
  
Midori nodded. This . . . Washu-chan . . . was definitely going to take some getting used to.   
  
But that, of course, is what made it fun, she acknowledged with a mental grin, as Washu began the lengthy process of introducing her to the lab.   
  
* * *  
  
As she peeked nervously around the doorway that separated Washu's lab from the rest of the house, Midori gave a small sigh of relief. No one. She stole through the house, not pausing much, eager to see the world outside again. Again . . . well, she assumed that she had been outside before, in her life before she lost her memory. So it technically was even though she couldn't remember ever having seen it.   
  
Although now that she did . . . the beautiful blue sky, white clouds, green trees, and small blue lake looked exactly like she would have expected them to look, even though she hadn't expected anything. She spotted a set of stairs, and her face lit up. Stairs . . . they looked like great fun. Besides . . . Washu had told her a little about how the house ran–although she didn't know exactly how much to believe. Really, alien princesses and cat-like animals that transform into spaceships? But she supposed the shrine would be up those steps, and she really ought to go let the owner of this place, Tenchi's grandfather, know that he had another houseguest for the nonce.   
  
She nodded and started up the stairs. Yes, she'd go talk to Masaki Katsuhito, Tenchi's grandfather. Maybe she'd get a chance to see Tenchi, too–and find out what it was about him that supposedly made every female living in the house fall in love with him. Even the cat-like spaceship.   
  
* * *  
  
Yosho stood easily, his sword at rest, as he watched his grandson kneel on the ground, panting to catch his breath. Honestly, Tenchi. I'd think you'd at least be able to hit an old man like me once. Tsk, you're really slowing down.   
  
The boy raised his warm brown eyes to his grandfather. Grandpa, I doubt I will ever be as fast as you. You have several hundred years more to practice.   
  
Yosho let a small smile come to his face. True, boy. True. But even by your own standards, that was not your best effort by a long shot. He frowned a slight, worried frown as he looked down on his grandson. You seemed distracted today. Is something wrong, Tenchi?   
  
It's nothing, Grandpa. The boy replied as he climbed back to his feet.   
  
Excuse me. A soft, feminine voice–and one unrecognized by either, something more surprising than its mere existence–interrupted their conversation before Yosho could pry further. Both turned to see a girl standing at the top of the steps, confusion slightly marring her complexion.   
  
She had dark, forest green hair that fell loose a little past her shoulders–it looked very raggedly cut as well, as if the remained of her hair had just been chopped off by someone . . . or some*thing*. Her eyes were a garnet darker than Ayeka or Sasami's, a color that sparked a sense of deja vu deep within Yosho's brain. *Where* had he seen that shade of eyes before? He shunted the question to the back of his brain, until the time when he would have time to consider it fully.   
  
Shunting himself back into the role of nice, harmless old man with the ease of hundreds of years of practice, Yosho smiled at the girl. Yes, can I help you?   
  
The girl looked from him to Tenchi and back again, before shaking her head slightly–an almost imperceptible movement–and returning her eyes solely to Yosho. I was looking for Masaki Katsuhito? She tinged the last few words with a querying tone.   
  
That would be me. Katsuhito stepped forward slightly. He didn't understand how she hadn't figured that out . . . how many old-looking men were there around here, anyway, after all? What did you want to tell me?   
  
The girl raised an eyebrow. I see. The tone made it clear that she was just humoring him. Would you inform him that I'll be staying here, with Washu, for a while? Or perhaps she wasn't even bothering to try to humor him.   
  
His eyebrows lowered. It had been quite a long time since someone had dared to doubt him like this stranger did. I *am* Katsuhito. Why don't you believe me?   
  
The girl smiled sweetly. Because there is no way you are old enough to be a teenager's father, much less *grandfather*. She turned and left, leaving an aghast Yosho and a bemused Tenchi behind her.  
  
Soon after, he let Tenchi go back down to the house and rushed into the shrine. He brought out a small mirror. Grey hair, somewhat wrinkled face . . . his illusion of age had not fallen, as he had feared when the girl so easily saw through it. But . . .  
  
Back out in front of the shrine, he went into a complex sword kata, exerting his body as he furiously exerted his mind at the same time. *How* in the world had the girl seen through his illusion? Tenchi, his own grandson, had never been able to see through it. Neither of his *half-sisters* had ever seen through this illusion, continuing on in the belief that life on such a backwater planet had prematurely aged him.   
  
Well . . . he thought sometimes that Tsunami might know the truth. The few times he had her, she always seemed slightly amused . . . but Tsunami was a goddess! The twenty-thousand year old self-proclaimed greatest scientific genius in the universe! had never doubted his age, and as for the Galaxy Police officers and Ryoko . . . they had no reason and no way to even try.   
  
So, even when none of his closest family had never suspected, how was it that this total stranger had seen through his illusion so thoroughly that she hadn't even realized that it existed?  
  
It was a puzzle, and a very intriguing one.  
  
* * *  
  
Midori, too, was thinking. She sat on a large flat stone by the small lake, idly tossing pebbles in and watching the ripples. When she appeared at the shrine, she had seen two young men, one with a small pigtail and one with a long ponytail, both with silky-looking black hair. Washu had described Tenchi pretty thoroughly (almost ad nauseum, in fact . . .), so she had not trouble identifying the pigtailed youth.   
  
But Washu hadn't even mentioned the other youngish (twenty to twenty-five years old, tops) man–who, incidentally, Midori thought looked like a much better catch than Tenchi. He moved with unconscious grace, held the sword like it was an extension of his body and not an awkward tool. Of course, once the other man opened his mouth . . .   
  
Blushing slightly with anger, she picked up a pebble and threw it particularly hard, so that it impacted on the tree growing out of the lake rather near the side she sat on. He had tried to convince her that *he* was Katsuhito, a grandfather, a man who Washu had clearly described as having *grey* hair . . . that infuriating boy.   
  
But . . . she stilled. The thing was, he seemed genuinely surprised and slightly distressed when she refused to believe him. And there was also the fact that when she had originally asked about Katsuhito, Tenchi had immediately–almost reflexively–turned to look at the other young man. *He* seemed to believe.   
  
So immersed was she in her considerations that she didn't even notice when the first droplets of rain began to fall.   
  
* * *  
  
Yosho slowly climbed down the stairs from the shrine towards the house, ignoring the rain falling steadily more heavily on him. Sure, he could have splurged power and erected a shield to keep out the rain . . . or brought an umbrella, for that matter. But why bother? He didn't mind the rain.   
  
A splash of color seen out of the corner of his eyes arrested his motion towards the house, as he noticed the strange mystery girl, sitting on a flat rock near the lake and ignoring the rain even more thoroughly than he himself was. He walked over. I never did catch your name, miss . . .?   
  
The girl looked up, her face going immediately neutral as soon as she saw exactly who had interrupted her. I'm going by Midori for the time being . . . you really are Katsuhito, aren't you.   
  
He nodded. I truly am. As much as anyone could be said to be.  
  
She stood, her eyes boring into his. Then why does everyone think you're an old man?   
  
A slight, enigmatic smile. Because everyone . . . except you, for some incomprehensible reason . . . sees an old man when they look at me. It was my decision to put on the appearance of age, instead of trying to explain why I stayed eternally young. He motioned towards the house. Now, shall we go inside? If you are going to be staying here, you should get to know the rest of the family as well. Midori nodded her head in silent assent, and they began the short walk back to the house.   
  
* * *  
  
Dripping wet and completely ignoring that small detail, Midori and Yosho entered the dry house. As if by some unseen cue, a sweet young voice chimed out Dinner's ready!   
  
Already almost in the dining room, Midori was in the perfect place to witness the entrance of the other members of the house. Tenchi was already there, smiling shyly at a young girl with turquoise hair. A *WHOOSH* and a pink-haired blur from the direction of the dimensional portal resolved itself into Washu, the only person familiar to Midori at this point.   
  
Another *WHOOSH* and blur, this time with purple hair, rushed in from the direction of the stairs, resolving itself into a girl with red eyes who sat in the seat next to Tenchi and immediately glomped onto the boy's arm. Then the last humanoid member of the household phased into existence a couple of feet above the table and floated gently down to claim the place on Tenchi's other side and glomp onto his other arm.   
  
Midori was beginning to feel sorry for the poor boy. Still, she couldn't restrain a small smile at the silliness of the situation.   
  
Both Ryoko and Ayeka saw the smile and, more importantly, the *unfamiliar* girl whose face it was currently gracing. Who are you? They demanded, voices oddly synchronized. You can't have Lord/Tenchi, he's mine!  
  
They turned to scowl at each other. And Midori laughed. Calm down, I don't want him.   
  
Unified blink from every single person in the room.   
  
Eventually, as the food came out of the kitchen, one by one the inhabitants of the room reluctantly turned their attention away from what must be one of the only young women in the world–no, make that universe!–who *didn't* immediately fall in love with Tenchi upon meeting him.   
  
About halfway through the meal, Washu looked up. Oh yeah, I almost forgot! I think I know how to cure your amnesia, Midori!   
  
Chibi-Washu A popped up on one shoulder Washu-chan is such a genius!   
  
Chibi-Washu B popped up on the other shoulder. The greatest genius in the entire universe!   
  
Both, Yay for Washu-chan!!  
  
Patented mad-scientist-Washu laugh. That's right!  
  
Blink, blink. Midori reached out and poked Chibi-Washu A gently. Are those things alive?   
  
All three Washus looked mildly offended. Of course we are. They chorused.   
  
Blink.   
  
* * *  
  
See, we attach this lead here, and that clippie-thingy there, and wrap this wire around your waist and tape the electromagnet to the middle of your forehead . . . all right! Now you're ready. Washu smiled evilly.  
  
Through the cotton balls stuffed in her cheeks, Midori mumbled, What does all this stuff do, anyway?   
  
Most of it . . . is absolutely pointless! Washu announced proudly.   
  
Facefault.   
  
Now, I want you to go into that box there and stand very straight. Good. Now don't move a muscle. Washu flipped a switch and pressed several buttons, before turning back to the green-haired girl. All she had to do now was sit back and watch the fireworks.   
  
Unfortunately to her mind, at first it didn't seem there would be any. Midori's muscles looked as she stared blankly at a point somewhere about a foot above Washu's head. The invention seemed to be working, and Washu began to congratulate herself. Too early by half.   
  
A red light slowly appeared, seemingly seeping out through the pores in Midori's skin, growing in intensity until she was glowing with a light the same garnet color as her eyes. Then, the light seemed to flex, stretching out to the side as another figure–identical to Midori in all ways that Washu could see through the interference of the red light–assembled itself out of nothingness. For a moment, the light paused, still engulfing both figures, before being sucked, not back into Midori's body, but into the unconscious body of her twin that had shown up so abruptly.   
  
Midori slid bonelessly to the ground, and Washu looked down at the two figures with a great deal of confusion and annoyance. The stupid machine was only supposed to restore her memories, not create a copy of her! Pause. With much longer, neatly cut hair done up partially in a bun. She stalked over to the machine and kicked it. Even if I don't really understand how yet, She paused dramatically, then yelled at the top of her lungs, MIHOSHI! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!!  
  
  
End Notes: Hee hee! I couldn't resist. I really, really, tried hard, but I just couldn't resist adding in that last part. It just seemed so fitting!   
  
And I really did intend to permanently get rid of Setsuna . . . but she's such a nice person, she doesn't deserve to be obliviated. So she's back in for good. How? Well . . . I think the Garnet Orb took a hand in things. After all, since Setsuna, *not* Midori, is the one who actually brought it into existence, it would probably take the chance to bring back its owner. Or perhaps Setsuna just fell in through a handy plot hole. I don't really know.   
  
Anyway, how much of her memory should Setsuna retain? Midori knows nothing, but I'm not sure yet whether I want Setsuna to remember everything (probably not), nothing (like Midori, and probably what will end up happening if no one persuades me otherwise), or just selective portions–say, cut off right before they recombined in the middle of Sailormoon S, or whatever? 


	4. 

red4

This chapter has been sitting there gathering dust (and about a paragraph at a time) for far too long. But I've finally finished it! And a great deal more happened in a smaller space than I expected it to–I'm afraid I'm rushing things, but I couldn't think of anything more better to insert in the middle. *Sigh*  
  
The concept of a divided Pluto is mine (I think. If someone else thought of it too, pat yourself on the back.) Tenchiverse Pluto is mine, as is long-haired Ami, the implied political connections between the Silver Millennium, Kinmoku, and Jurai back in the Silver Millennium time period, and any other tweaks I added in in order to make this place appreciably different from canon Sailorverse.   
  
However, the original templates of Sailor Moon (anime style, as it is the one I am most familiar with) and Tenchi (Universe!, since it is my favorite, although I believe I am probably borrowing rather heavily from Tenchi Muyo! as well) belong to people who are a great deal more artistically talented, older, and richer than me.  
  
  
Headache. Her head hurt. She wondered, vaguely, why. Not a hangover–she and Reika may have been friends, but neither was the type to go out to a bar and get drunk. What else could have caused this (*wince*) feeling?   
  
She tentatively attempted to open an eye, then slammed it immediately shut. Wherever she was, the light was entirely too bright. Now . . . what was the last thing she could remember?   
  
. . . that senshi. The one in burgundy, black, and white, with the silver staff. Or was she really a senshi at all? She didn't look like any of the descriptions–but other new senshi had appeared recently as well, so she could just be another of those. The one that had talked to Sailor Moon using *her* face (or was it Usagi? Yes, Tsukino Usagi. She hadn't been in her senshi form at the time). The thing that had stepped into her and attempted to take control. I am you. The emotionless being had stated.   
  
I refuse . . .   
  
* * *  
  
I refuse to believe that! Washu turned around to face the owner of the anguished, angered voice, the second Midori that had appeared so suddenly, as she went from unconsciousness to standing up, professing complete denial of something.   
  
Believe what? Although that question, too, was on Washu's lips, it was Midori that spoke, spitting the cotton balls out of her mouth. It didn't work, Washu. I still don't remember anything.   
  
The new girl looked from doppelganger to mad scientist and back. Who are you people? Her gaze locked on Midori. She hissed. Are you her? The one who tried to take over my body? Well, if this is a trick to make me let down my guard, it won't work. I won't let you obliterate me!   
  
Midori's eyebrows wrinkled. Why would I want your body? I have one of my own, after all. I don't really need a spare.   
  
Would you be willing to tell us your name? Washu asked cautiously. That is, if you remember it. A certain amount of resigned humor entered her tone.   
  
Of course I remember my own name. What do you think I am, stupid? My name is Meiou Setsuna. She turned. But who is she, if she's not the body stealer?   
  
I don't know. Midori answered honestly. Washu was trying to return my memory, but then you appeared. She took the electromagnet off her forehead and began unwrapping the wire from around her waist. Actually, I was hoping you could tell me. I don't suppose you have a twin sister, cousin, something like that, who went missing recently or something like that?   
  
Setsuna shook her head regretfully. Sorry. I'm an only child, and all my close cousins are boys–and none of them have green hair or red eyes. She cocked her head. But you sure do look a lot like me, don't you? I wonder why.   
  
Midori shrugged lightly. I bet you anything that the answer to that involves my lost memories. I don't suppose we've met before, either?  
  
Setsuna shook her head. The only green-haired, red-eyed girl I've ever met–other than the image when I in the mirror–is the *CENSORED* who tried to take over my body, just before I appeared. Hey, maybe she succeeded, and I'm dead. This isn't exactly what I imagined Heaven would be like, though.   
  
Washu giggled. No, you're not dead, because I know for a fact that this is not Heaven. Heaven would never be so chaotic.   
  
Setsuna examined that argument logically and finally nodded. Okay, how about Hell, then? Although if this were Hell, I'd have thought the body-stealer would be here to torture me.   
  
Washu shook her head violently as a dreamy look came into her eyes. No, this couldn't be Hell. No place can be Hell as long as Tenchi is there with me.   
  
The two green-haired girls shared a look. When a stray heart drifted too far in her direction, Midori absentmindedly popped it.   
  
* * *  
  
Coming out through the dimensional doorway, Midori bumped into Yosho. Oh, Katsuhito. Hello. Were you coming here to talk to Washu?  
  
The patriarch of the Masaki clan tilted his head. Well, yes . . . in a manner of speaking. I merely wished to know if your memory operation was successful.   
  
The short answer would be no. There were, however, several large complications.   
  
Oh, so I'm reduced to a complication now, am I? An amused voice, identical in tone and timbre, came from over Midori's shoulder . . . as a second Midori with much longer hair stepped into the light. You must be the grandfather of this Tenchi I hear so much about. It is nice to meet you. I'm Meiou Setsuna.  
  
She has her full memories, up to a certain point. Midori supplied. But she does not have a long lost twin or anything like that, so as to my identity, we are still all rather in the dark.   
  
A pleasure to meet you, Setsuna. Yosho nodded gravely. And Midori . . . I'm sorry that your memories were not successfully returned, although I must admit I would be equally sorry when the time comes for you to leave.  
  
The green-haired girl found her feet of sudden intense interest, the slightest amount of pink staining her deeply tanned cheeks. She then looked up and grinned slightly. Eh, I bet you say that to all the girls.  
  
Feeling younger than he had in years, Yosho grinned roguishly back. Only to the ones who deserve it. And laughed, Midori joining in as Setsuna looked between the two with some small confusion.   
  
Yosho, having found out what he wished to know, turned to leave. It was only due to his keen Juraian hearing that he heard Setsuna's soft-spoken comment. Ah, Midori? Don't you think he's a bit . . . old for you? He looks like he's someone's grandfather.   
  
And Midori's trill of laughter. Me? And Katsuhito? Don't be silly. He's like the brother I (probably) never had.  
  
So Setsuna, like everyone else, could not see through the illusion either. Yosho was surprised, but wasn't sure whether he was also disappointed . . . or relieved.   
  
* * *  
  
You know, Midori, when you first appeared, it was through a hole that looked suspiciously like a space/time warp. Washu commented to the two green-haired girls. I'm not an expert on that sort of thing (though if you ever tell anyone I said that, I will firmly deny it), but it may have crossed you through to a different dimension as well. Perhaps dimensional travel has the effect of suppressing a person's memories. She pondered the various ramifications of this new hypothesis.   
  
We'll find out soon enough. Midori stated calmly.   
  
What makes you say that? Curiosity bells and whistles were going off in Washu's mind. Perhaps Midori was recovering some of her memory.   
  
Why, because Sailor Pluto always comes to investigate temporal and dimensional disturbances. Midori looked mildly surprised as she innocently blinked. I thought everyone knew that.   
  
I didn't. Washu and Setsuna admitted simultaneously. I wonder how Midori does? It sure doesn't seem like the sort of information that just anyone would know.  
  
Hm. Washu walked over to her main computer. Computer, show me Sailor Pluto.   
  
**::Searching . . . one match found. Display match?::**  
  
Of course I want you to display it, silly computer! Slowly an image grew on the screen, and all three girls gasped.   
  
Setsuna shrieked. That's the body-stealer I was telling you about! Pause. Waitasecond. Never mind. She has blue eyes, and the body-stealer had red eyes, just like me.   
  
Midori reconcieved a great hatred for that color of eyes. Except . . . I get the feeling I knew her, and liked her. It's just her eyes . . . I hate that color of eyes, and I really don't know why.   
  
How many darkly-tanned, green-haired young adult females, nearly identical in almost every way, are there around here anyway? Washu muttered in frustration. Computer, search for pictures of anyone else identical to Midori, except perhaps slight variation in eye color and hair length and style.  
  
**::Searching . . . one additional match found. Display also?::** The computer didn't even bother to wait for the inevitable, exasperated affirmation, splitting the screen in two, and placing up a picture that, with the exception of apparel, was identical to the picture of Sailor Pluto. **::Subject name: Meiou Setsuna. Estimated age: 23. Works in Tokyo Observatory . . .::**  
  
That's enough, computer. Washu stated. So, not only do we have two more doubles of the two of you to worry about, one even has the same name.   
  
Two? But it is obvious that that Setsuna is Sailor Pluto. Anyone could see that. Midori thought, confused. Just like anyone can see that Katsuhito Masaki is biologically, if not temporally, about as young as you? Another part of her mind asked rhetorically. Perhaps everyone else can't see. Now all that remains for us to find out why we can. Maybe Katsuhito will have a suggestion. Or . . . when Sailor Pluto shows up, we can just ask her, instead.   
  
* * *  
  
Setsuna's head turned at the curious sound, searching out the source–until she found it, in the form of Ryo-ohki.  
  
Hello, Ryo-ohki. Washu told me about you. Would you like to be friends? Setsuna knelt down to the cabbit's level and looked it in the eyes.   
  
Ryo-ohki agreed with its version of a smile, and a vigorous bob of the head. She liked this new stranger that had come to live at the house–and she liked the other stranger too, the one with short hair. They reminded her of Sasami, and Sasami was her favorite person. The short-haired girl reminded her of Sasami more, but she liked this girl a whole lot too.   
  
Nice to meet you too. Setsuna relaxed onto the sofa as she pondered the day's strange events. She had been confronting this evil copy of herself, and then *POOF!* she had been transported several years later (she had checked a calendar) and perhaps even a dimension away. Ryo-ohki jumped onto her lap and she began absentmindedly stroking the small animal. Now, she had landed in a madhouse (or that's what it seemed like at times, at least) filled with aliens and space pirates and mad scientists and, we musn't forget, a *benevolent* double of herself (who, incidentally, had no memory at all). How strange her life had become.   
  
Her abstracted gaze directed itself through the glass door directly across from the couch, so she was in the perfect position to observe the arrival of the next guest in the Masaki home. For a brief moment, the air shimmered the way it does in the most intense of heat waves, then a rip formed and through that rip stepped Sailor Pluto, looking exactly like the photo they had been observing mere hours before.   
  
For a moment, the senshi stood there looking around, slightly disoriented, then her eyes fell upon Setsuna. She stiffened, and rushed forward. Midori, you're okay! We were all so worried when you just disappeared on us! What happened?  
  
Setsuna blinked. You knew Midori? Before she lost her memory? Come on, you need to meet Washu. She paused. Oh, and I'm not Midori. My name is Setsuna.   
  
Setsuna? Midori's Setsuna? Pluto paused. Ye . . . es, I can see that. You truly do belong in that other dimension, unlike her. I'm glad you're all right too, for Midori's sake.  
  
Midori knew me? Setsuna asked, eyes wide, as she commenced dragging Pluto once more towards Washu's lab. But I never . . . met . . . The green-haired girl grew pale. You are me The remembered voice echoed briefly in Setsuna's mind, and she shuddered. No! Not Midori! I refuse to believe that of her. She's not like that! She'd never do that. Not Midori.  
  
* * *  
  
You don't remember me? Or Haruka, or Yaten, or anyone? Sailor Pluto staggered mentally as she looked into the calm garnet eyes of her semi-twin.   
  
No, I don't remember you, any more than I do the other Setsuna. Midori sounded vaguely puzzled. Could you tell me, though, why I find within myself such an intense hatred of your eyes?   
  
You told me that your mother had eyes the same color as mine, and that it was she who stripped you of your position and threw you back into this universe–your home universe, as it turned out.  
  
I . . . yes. Midori breathed. I begin to remember.  
  
As if there was some psychic connection between the two girls, Setsuna too began to remember those years she had lost, slowly. Their fight–and yes, Midori *had been* the evil body-stealer, but she was different now. She had been different, even when they shared the same body, when the one who had been Pluto seemed to be the only intelligence remaining, and especially when she lost all her memories and when Setsuna returned to independent existence.   
  
Midori/Pluto, memories returned, threw herself at the other girl. Oh Setsuna, I was so afraid I had lost you forever.   
  
Didn't you read my note? Setsuna asked, confused. I was with you the whole time–I had become you, until the Garnet Orb used Washu's memory restoration machine to restore me to full autonomy instead.   
  
You mean . . . you knew this was going to happen . . . and you didn't tell me?! Do you know how worried I was?! Midori/Pluto yelled. Setsuna dashed out through the dimensional doorway into the house, Midori/Pluto close on her heels. Get back here, Setsuna!   
  
Washu turned to look at her remaining guest. So, what brought Sailor Pluto here, if you weren't aware Midori was here?   
  
I came here to investigate a temporal disturbance–not a large one, and one that seemed vaguely familiar, but I didn't have anything better to do. Now I know why it seemed familiar–Setsuna is a great deal like both Midori and myself, after all.   
  
So you are a remnant of the Silver Millennium. Yosho stepped into the light. I am glad to know that at least some of you survived the onslaught.   
  
Pluto's eyes narrowed, then relaxed as she sighed. I'm afraid I have no memory of you, sir. All of us were reincarnated by the power of the Ginzuishou, but as an unfortunate side effect of that reincarnation, we remember next to nothing of our previous lives.  
  
Washu's hands twitched as beautiful visions of experimenting on this Ginzuishou' artifact–imagine, an object of such power as to be able to reincarnate peoples' souls!–danced around in her head, and she began to cackle softly, unheard by the other two occupants of the room.   
  
Yosho shook his head sadly. I'm afraid I was only a child when the Silver Millennium fell, so neither do I remember you as more than a child's bedtime story. The emperor of Jurai, where I am from, would be ecstatic to renew relations with Queen Serenity once he is appraised of your existence, I am sure.   
  
Queen Serenity did not survive, I'm afraid. Pluto sighed. Neither did any of the other Elder Senshi. Only we, their daughters, remain . . . but I think that Princess Serenity would be just as happy to renew relations with yet another of our old allies. I remember now, the stories my mother would tell me of Jurai. It sounded like a beautiful place, but my duties as I began taking over from my mother kept me from ever visiting.   
  
Tell me, what are your intentions towards Setsuna and Midori? Yosho asked, leaning forward slightly.   
  
Pluto sighed yet again. There we have a dilemma. Both are, or were, Sailor Pluto and thus would seem to belong with the rest of us senshi–at least until they are able to return to their home dimension. But Midori, at least, is no longer able to transform and we really wouldn't be able to watch her, with all the enemies we must fight–and she really can't take on a phage on her own with any hope of winning. She would be safer remaining here–although it is, in the end, her decision. The same goes for Setsuna.   
  
They are welcome here any time. Yosho asserted. Already, Midori and Setsuna both seem a part of the hodgepodge of weirdos that seem to have come to inhabit this house. His smile showed that he did not mind in the least hosting such a hodgepodge of weirdos'. His life had been far too monotonous before they all appeared, after all. Especially the enigma that called herself Midori . . . the puzzle he felt like he was constantly on the very edge of solving. They will always be welcome here.   
  
Midori and Setsuna had returned, smiling, friends again. That means a lot to me. Midori continued. I think here is where I have been happiest and most carefree, even for the short time I've been here. It seems like home, now.   
  
I have a home that will always be my own, family and friends, back in my dimension. But I have enjoyed my stay here and would not mind staying here longer. Setsuna concurred.   
  
Then that settles it. You will stay here, at least until our battle is over with and it is safe once again back in Juuban. Then, we shall see. I'm happy for the two of you. Sailor Pluto smiled and vanished.   
  
* * *  
  
In the depths of the night, a presence stole into Washu's lab, aiming for her communications equipment. Sparing a glance for the three deeply asleep figures, it turned the volume settings on the equipment to the minimal available to have it still be audible and turned the screen away, so the light emitted would be that much less likely to disturb the sleeping figures. One stirred uneasily and the presence froze, on the verge of turning on the equipment. She sighed and turned back over, returning to the deepest of sleep, and the presence, too, sighed a sigh of relief.   
  
With a muffled click the equipment turned on, revealing Yosho's intense face in it's dimly flickering light. Adjusting a few other buttons, he sent out a call which was replied to almost as quickly as it had taken to send.   
  
My son. The mildly surprised but very well controlled face of Jurai's senior empress appeared on the screen. It's been a while, Yosho. And please do lower that detestable illusion you insist on maintaining. Now, what is it that you want?   
  
The first order of business–through the strangest turn of luck imaginable, I've been able to reestablish contact with the remnants of the Silver Millennium, although they are currently engaged in fighting an unknown enemy, so negotiations will have to wait. I *told* father that this was the solar system where it had once been–do you remember that argument?   
  
Funaho sighed. Was that one of the arguments where he stalked away in a huff, or where you cut him off and slid away on your ship to drift around until you felt he had calmed down sufficiently for you to return again?   
  
Yosho sweatdropped. Surely we're not that bad, Mother.   
  
Perhaps not *now*, but back then you were the very epitome of the concept rebellious teenager'. I still think you remain on that backwater planet mostly just because you believe it will piss him off. And it works.   
  
Sigh. I'm not going to argue with you, too, Mother. I need to ask you something that's been bothering me recently.  
  
Ask away, my son. Funaho assented mildly.   
  
You've used illusions before, if probably not for as long a period of unbroken time or as determinedly as I. Yosho started, then paused, before asking what she could feel was the main point of his question. Who can see through your illusions?   
  
Raised eyebrow. The answer to that question, she would have thought, was completely obvious. You can. Why, is there any real point in this question?  
  
Anyone else? Yosho continued.   
  
Well, just about anyone with a drop of royal Juraian blood in them could, if they really tried hard *and* already knew the illusion existed. Hm . . . my brother always claimed he couldn't see my illusions at all, but he was probably just pulling my leg. That was my twin brother, by the way. The one who died when you were a hundred. Her mask seemed about to crack, as she remembered the death of the one person in the family she had always been able to share anything with.   
  
Do I have a sister? Yosho's eyes widened. Surely he would remember if he did, but it had been such a very long time.   
  
Don't be silly. You have two, Ayeka and Sasami. Surely you remember them, seeing as they're *living* with you. A certain amount of bitterness entered her tone–for, though they were her co-wife's daughters, she had always loved them as her own, and had been devastated when they decided so peremptorily to leave–and to join the member of the family who had forsaken all contact with Jurai in the years since his disappearance, and even now called rarely, and only when he needed something.   
  
No, they're my *half*-sisters, mother, and they wouldn't recognize my illusion as such unless I slapped them in the face with it. I'm talking about a *real* sister, a *full* sister, *your* daughter, as I am your son, not Misaki's.  
  
Millions of light years away, Funaho froze, affected by a grief equal to that over her twin, but this grief a wound that had not even begun to heal. Her answer was short as she tried her hardest to retain her calm façade. If Yosho did not remember, she would not remind him. You do not have any siblings.   
  
She cut her side of the connection, but in the brief minute before Yosho remembered to cut his, a ghost rose from the past to taunt her. Katsuhito, what are you doing down here so late? The figure asked, blearily wiping her eyes. And who was that lady? She looked a great deal like you. Is she your mother?   
  
Yes, that was my mother. Yosho smiled, and Funaho saw her son raise his illusion with no reaction from the girl that smiled at him. She yawned, stretching, and turned around.   
  
Oh, that's nice. I hope I get to meet her someday–she looks nice, not at all like the bitch who claimed she was my mother. The girl's face twisted with hatred as she glared into the distance with red eyes that shone the color of garnets. Anyway, 'night Katsuhito. Do go ahead and get some sleep at some point tonight.  
  
Yosho's face softened the way it did around so few people–herself not included, Funaho mourned–and he smiled lightly. Good night– It cut off abruptly, as his hand came down absentmindedly on the shutoff switch.   
  
It shut off both too early and too late, for the senior empress of Jurai who felt those garnet eyes–the eyes of a complete stranger–burn themselves into her, releasing her iron hold on those memories she had tried so hard to suppress. If only she knew the girl's name . . . though that was impossible, no matter how much she wished otherwise.   
  
The stranger could not be who she so wished it was. Funaho had to face the facts–her daughter had *died* that day so long ago. She was dead and she wouldn't be coming back. They may have never found her daughter's dead body, but if Tsunami had not interfered on Sasami's behalf that frightening day so many years ago, they would likely never have found Sasami's body either.  
  
But as much as she tried to suppress it, to impress on herself the futility of such a thought, obviously doomed to disappointment, a small seed of hope had been planted. A seed that left Funaho wondering and wishing. If only . . .  
  
  
End Notes: Help! Can anyone provide me with a short description of Funaho, Asuza, and Misaki? Or at least affirm that those are their names (Asuza meaning the emperor of Jurai and Misaki his second wife, Ayeka and Sasami's mother, if the names are so far off as to be completely unrecognizable). I really want to write them in, but it's been so long since I've seen Tenchi that I've completely forgotten what they look like!   
  
I think Funaho has dark hair. Right? And that one scene (in Tenchi Muyo! I think?) did indicate that she could see through Yosho's image of old age, I think–and is actually where I got the idea of the age-disguising illusion from. Also, does anyone know when Yosho's birthday is?  
  
Um . . . what else? Tenchiverse Setsuna probably won't be back–at least not until they finish fighting Galaxia. Just assume the senshi in Tenchiverse go roughly according to canon (adjusted for their friendship with the Starlights) because, since I've seen maybe twelve episodes of Stars (1-8, and 13-16? Yeah, that sounds about right), I know practically zilch about Stars and do not intend to touch the senshi side of Tenchiverse without using at *least* a twenty-foot-long pole.  
  
And if you've already figured out where this story is headed . . . all I can say is, good for you! I hope I'm making it relatively hard to figure out, though . . . let me know if you have any suggestions. 


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